In the Hall of the Mattress King

I had to go shopping for a new mattress, and I found myself in one of those specialized mattress places you often see on local television. Here's an essay on my day spent in the hall of the Mattress King and his court.

There's nothing like a good cup of gourmet coffee after the best night of sleep in your life.

I recently had a reason to put that theory to the test.

I've had the same mattress set for about 10 years now. To be even more accurate, I've endured sleeping on a Nerf pancake studded with dog-collar spikes for almost a decade. My wife and I decided it was time to look for a new mattress and box springs.

Long ago, I developed a hard and fast rule about furniture and bedding outlets. I swore I would never shop in any store that featured fictional characters- no Wizards, no Kings, no Elves, nothing of the sort. My a priori salesman was a guy named Chuck, of Honest Chuck's Mattresses and Beyond.

So here we are in the Hall of the Mattress King. Apparently the King was called away on royal business, so we were greeted by his son- the Mattress Duke, as it were. He invited us to try out any bed in the store, which translated to lying fully clothed on a bed while other customers watch the show. My wife and I became a pair of Goldilocks in a giant warehouse of Bear Family furnishings. We finally decided on a firm, but not TOO firm, mattress with a pillow top. In the store, it looked absolutely perfect.

A few days later, the bed of our dreams arrived by a most royal-looking delivery van. The men finished setting up the frame, box spring and mattress, then had me sign for acceptance. After they left, I was left alone with my first new bed in years. And then I realized why it was so dark in the bedroom. This monolith was literally blocking out the sun. It was as if we rented a bed and they built an apartment around it to keep out the rain. We've now dubbed it Mount Bed-a-Rest. Oh sure, it's comfortable. We no longer count ceiling tiles to fall asleep- we ARE the ceiling tiles.

As far as the old mattress is concerned, I was really looking forward to a nice Viking funeral, courtesy of the King's coachmen. Instead, it ended up in a new neighbor's apartment 20 feet away. The night it finally showed up in a dumpster was the best night of sleep I ever had.

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